


Schneesterly Cookies

by Kiiratam



Category: RWBY
Genre: Background Relationships, Canon Compliant, Cooking, F/F, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Angst, Money Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24487363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiiratam/pseuds/Kiiratam
Summary: Weiss shares some of what she's learned with her sister.A follow-up toCookies & Hugs. Takes place around Volume 7, Chapter 5. (My BMBLB fic index)
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Comments: 18
Kudos: 109





	Schneesterly Cookies

Still fifteen minutes early, Weiss exited the elevator into the lobby. Even if 'lobby' was the Atlas Academy gloss for 'security checkpoint.' Winter would have notified the officer on duty, and Weiss should be able to proceed directly to Winter's room with a minimum of hassle. She expected it to take ten minutes, nevertheless, which would still leave her slightly early. Or, in an absolute worst case scenario, on time.

  
Three security personnel, with holstered sidearms. Looking bored.

  
And Winter, turning away from the window at the noise of the elevator arriving. She inclined her head minutely, with the tiniest hint of a smile. 

  
Weiss presented her credentials and her bag to the guards, answering their well-worn questions succinctly. After a quick inspection - Weiss wasn't sure if it was perfunctory, or merely highly efficient - they passed her through. All the while, though, Weiss was wondering about timing.

  
Winter was always on time. Not early, not late. On. Time. 

  
Not like their father, always playing games. Show up late, and force everyone else to wait. Show up early, and demand to know, of each 'latecomer', why they didn't think this was important.

  
Not like their mother, for whom 'late' was an artform that blended into 'absent entirely.'

  
**On. Time.**

  
But here Winter was, early.

  
Winter's eyes glanced down to the bag Weiss held, but she didn't ask about that. "You've eaten already?"

  
"I _did_ ask to see you after dinner."

  
Nodding once, Winter started down the hall, and Weiss fell in step with her. "Has team RWBY adjusted to their new quarters?"

  
"Not that we're spending much time there, but yes. We had bunk-beds back at Beacon, too. I believe I sent you pictures?"

  
"Along with dismay about the haphazard nature of their construction, yes. Ours were purpose build."

  
Shrugging, Weiss said, "I'm just happy to have bunk-beds again. You remember-"

  
"Of course, the proposal you submitted to me, wherein you suggested that we 'make use of wasted vertical space', share a bedroom, and turn the other room into-" Winter paused. "-a skating rink?"

  
"Hockey rink." Of course, Winter had said no, and it hadn't mattered in any event, because Weiss had been told in no uncertain terms that she wasn't going to be allowed to pursue any sport as undignified as hockey.

  
Winter accepted the correction with a nod. "And your Huntress contracts?"

  
"Going well." Most of them weren't terribly exciting, but it was good to help. And Weiss appreciated the infusion of capital, slight as it was. Of course, she wasn't taking that many jobs, between training with the Ace-Ops, and FNKI, and Winter, and team practice, and -

  
"Are you financially secure?"

  
Weiss paused. She wasn't, not really. If RWBY hadn't been receiving room and board at Atlas Academy... to say nothing of her new apparel, or how much Dust she was using in training...

  
"I thought not. Fortunately, I am in a position to offer you some assistance." Winter pulled a slim envelope from her pocket, and offered it to Weiss.

  
Suddenly unsure, Weiss kept her hands on the straps of her bag. What had happened to Winter's insistence that she couldn't always be there for Weiss? The lesson that she had passed down, that Weiss should be able to stand on her own feet, without her sister's help?

  
"Weiss." Winter offered the envelope again. "This is a significant amount of lien for your current circumstances. It does not leave me in any undue hardship. Take it."

  
Clearing her throat, Weiss nodded at a door. "This is your suite?"

  
After taking a short breath, Winter said, "Yes. I don't spend much time here under normal circumstances." The envelope vanished back into her jacket pocket, and she opened the door with a keycard. Stepping aside, she motioned Weiss inside.

  
It was certainly larger than RWBY's quarters. But they were also in student housing, and Winter had an officer's suite.

  
A large window dominated the far side of the room, promising a spectacular view of the sunrise, if Weiss' sense of direction was correct. Now, of course, it was only darkness and whirling snow. There was a cluster of sitting chairs around a short table in the center of the room, and a small kitchenette off to the left. A flight of stairs presumably led up to Winter's bedroom. It was, on the whole, austere. The only deviations from Atlas Academy decor that Weiss could see were an espresso machine - sleek black in the otherwise lightly-colored room - and a large framed panoramic photograph by the stairs. The photograph was of a vineyard at dawn, with grapes still on the vines, all covered with a thin layer of ice. Weiss was appalled by the destruction. An entire crop ruined by an early frost. Why did Winter have _this_ up on her wall?

  
"Would you like anything to drink?" Winter had opened one of the cabinets in the kitchenette. "Wine, beer, juice, water?"

  
"Why do you have alcohol?" She hadn't meant to ask that. Ruby's bad habits were rubbing off on her. Or just Ruby's annoyance at her uncle and _his_ bad habits.

  
Winter hadn't raised an eyebrow, but she almost had. "For company. They were, by and large, housewarming presents." After a moment, in which Weiss refrained from asking about the exceptions, Winter asked. "Sparkling water?"

  
"Yes, please." Weiss had read a study about alcoholism in the Mantle and Atlesian militaries around the Great War, primarily as a means of coping with shell shock. But she hadn't thought - especially from the tone of the study - that it was still a problem. Not that she thought _Winter_ drank, but even if other people were getting drunk around her - it wasn't expected.

  
Filling two tall, narrow glasses, Winter brought them over, and offered her one. "What do you think of the photograph?"

  
Taking the water, Weiss took a sip, the bubbles tickling her nose. This seemed like a test. She turned to re-examine the panoramic. The fading green of the leaves, so dark as to be black. The grapes, gleaming like clusters of jewels in their frozen shell. "It's very striking. Did the vineyard recover financially?"

  
"It was a very good year." Weiss waited for her sister to continue. "This vineyard cultivates a grape that sweetens dramatically after the first frost. Prior to that, they are of indifferent quality. But afterwards, they are excellent. I believe I have a jar of their jam I can give you."

  
Ruby's sweet tooth could do with something other than cookies. Weiss would have to acquire fresh croissants, but Yang seemed to have a nose for patisseries. Or Blake did. It wasn't like they separated anymore. "That would be wonderful, thank you." Winter started back towards the kitchenette, and Weiss followed her. "Would you like dessert?"

  
"Owing to your vague hints, I elected to not have dessert in the mess tonight. So, yes, I would like dessert - assuming it falls within the acceptable dietary bounds, of course."

  
"Of course!" Weiss would never try to _surprise_ Winter with some three-level iced cake, or something equally ridiculous. Ruby, perhaps. But Weiss could always go to Yang and ask if _she_ thought if Ruby would like it. It was very convenient so far as gift-giving went. Not that Weiss had the means to do much gift-giving anymore.

  
"So where did you go? Kilwin's Confections?" Weiss could hear her sister's subtle refusal to actually pronounce it as 'Konfections,' as all their signage proclaimed. 

  
While Winter retrieved the jam from a cabinet, Weiss set her bag down on the counter and started unpacking it. "Actually, I just went to the grocery story. How do you feel about baking?"

  
"The kitchenette is included in single officers' suites primarily for social events, not day to day use. That is the role of the mess." Winter set a small jar of jam down on the counter, next to Weiss' bag.

  
With a small smile, Weiss said, "What I'm hearing is that you've never baked."

  
"Some of my fellow officers are quite enthusiastic about it. Captain Tell gave me a tin of springerle last winter that she made herself."

  
"But _you_ don't."

  
Winter shook her head once. "I've never seen the need to develop those skills, no."

  
"Team RWBY has done it a few times for team-building exercises." Weiss laid out all of her ingredients - neatly pre-measured and bagged. "I'm not very good at it, but I am getting better."

  
"I'm afraid that I will only be a hindrance." Winter started to take a step back, but Weiss grabbed onto her arm.

  
"Don't be like that. It's a very simple recipe, and it can't go worse than my first time." Weiss tried to keep her blush at a reasonable level. "The curtains are too far to light on fire."

  
That very nearly got a smile.

  
"Besides, I already did all the hard work, and measured all the ingredients. Could you get a large bowl? I'll set the oven temperature." Weiss stepped over to the oven, and tapped in her desired temperature. She'd read an article yesterday about steps to take when baking in an unfamiliar kitchen (and how they could also improve baking in your home kitchen), and one of the warnings was that not all ovens _actually_ reached the right temperature. The article had recommended buying an oven thermometer. Weiss had asked Ruby about alternatives, and had received the expert advice, 'Just eyeball it.' And then some comments about how if it was on fire, it was too hot. And _then_ Ruby had said that if Weiss was scared of the oven, she could always just eat the raw cookie dough.

  
But instead of doing that, and taking the risk of consuming uncooked eggs, Weiss was going to have to make do with an imprecise oven temperature.

  
Winter had found a large bowl, though it seemed to be a punch bowl, rather than a mixing bowl. She looked at Weiss with a slightly odd expression, that Weiss wasn't particularly sure how to interpret. Wariness? "Will this do?"

  
Picking up the bowl, Weiss looked at it from all angles. "Hmm, glass construction, bowl-shaped, large. Yes, I suppose so."

  
Winter sighed. Weiss had a sudden wonder, if her sigh and Winter's sounded the same. The best way to really test it would be to go back to team RWBY's room, and see if they could interrupt Blake and Yang's inevitable canoodling. Their expressions would tell Weiss if her and Winter matched.

  
Before she could get too side-tracked, Weiss set the bowl down and told her sister, "Just pour everything but the chocolate chips in. Where do you keep your utensils?"

  
"The drawer between the sink and the oven."

  
"Thank you." Weiss opened the drawer, and grabbed the largest spoon she could find, a sharp knife, and an ordinary fork.

  
"Weiss, what is this?" Winter held up a small bag for her sister to see, with just a little bit of dark liquid inside.

  
"Vanilla, of course. Just pour it in."

  
Winter didn't seem convinced. "What about wastage from what won't come out of the bag?"

  
"That's acceptable; I accounted for that in my measurements." Ruby had laughed at her, standing in the floor kitchen with a teaspoon, a bag, and a scale, pouring vanilla back and forth, taking copious notes. Of course, Ruby had also sat down and pointed out that if Weiss was going to do all this work, she might _also_ want to practice making the cookies. In the end, Weiss had gotten her data, and her practice, and Ruby had gotten cookies.

  
"You are aware I can cook eggs?" Winter poured the bag of egg yolks and whites into the mix.

  
Weiss shrugged. "I wasn't. I also spent five minutes making sure there were no eggshells in there."

  
"And this one?"

  
"Peanut butter. Here, set it down." Blake had shown her this trick, when she and Yang had swung by the kitchen to make fish sticks and Blake saw Weiss struggling to empty that bag. Weiss forced the peanut butter out of one of the bottom corners of the bag, and cut the tip of corner off with the knife. "Now, just squeeze it out. Just be careful of the top." Weiss decided to throw in what Yang had said. "Just pretend you're milking a cow."

  
Winter gave her a very strange look. "You didn't mention that team-building exercise."

  
"Oh, umm, that isn't one we've done. One of my team mates mentioned that the motions were very similar, though. But even if it's a purely imaginary cow, mentioning it reminds you that this is potentially hazardous, and that you should be gentle and respectful, if you don't want to be kicked. Er, splattered with peanut butter." Weiss decided that her blushing was somewhat unfortunate, and also that she couldn't do anything about it. "It was a very convincing metaphor, and it helped me, so I decided to share."

  
Winter seemed to accept that, and started gently squeezing the peanut butter out of the bag, onto the rest of the ingredients. Somehow, it was incredibly awkward to watch, so Weiss turned back to her bag and pulled out the two absolutely precious tiny sheet pans she'd purchased. She'd justified the expenditure after doing some research on field baking (mostly talking to Blake) and deciding that if RWBY carried cookie dough, it would be slightly more difficult for Ruby to just scarf it down. And they could enjoy fresh-baked cookies every night. They hadn't cost that much at all, and Weiss had desperately needed to buy something non-essential. She gave the pans a quick wash in the sink, and dried them.

  
"All the ingredients are in the bowl."

  
Weiss turned back around, picking up the spoon and handing it to her sister. "Excellent. Start mixing."

  
Winter took it, but didn't start working.

  
"If you'd prefer, you can always just use your hand. That's how I learned."

  
After a moment's consideration, Winter started mixing with the spoon.

  
"Be sure to break the yolks. And don't leave any clumps of sugar." Weiss had an odd moment of realization, of the reversal of her telling Winter what to do. She wondered if Ruby felt this way about being Yang's leader. But they did have a much different relationship. She almost wanted to mention her realization to Winter, see how she felt. But... it was too odd. And regardless, she didn't think Winter would answer. She was stirring with a look of intense concentration - "Not too fast." - and with a reasonable, even speed. "It's going to take a moment, but the dough should start to pull away from the sides of the bowl and stop sticking to everything."

  
Weiss waited. She'd always hated people talking when she was trying to master a new task. At least the first few times, she had to talk her way through everything in her head. And even if mixing wasn't nearly as complicated as the science of defense, nearly anything could be overwhelming at first. Raising herself a bit, she peeked at the bowl. And waited.

  
At last, the dough started sticking to itself, forming a nice glossy mass. Winter turned to look at her.

  
"Add the chocolate chips, and just mix it enough to get them evenly distributed."

  
Weiss could tell from her sister's eyes that she was running complex calculations in her head, trying to reckon the mass of the dough, the amount of chocolate chips, and what a perfectly even distribution should look like. Shortly, Winter was satisfied, and she glanced at Weiss.

  
"Good. Now, we want to make these into about sixteen balls, four centimetres in diameter." Weiss brought over her pans, and put a sheet of baking paper in each one. "We'll place them on here, and then we can freeze most of them, and just have a few tonight." Winter, at least, didn't have to worry about Ruby's 2am cookie cravings. Leading by example, Weiss scooped out a portion of dough, shaped it into a ball - throwing the excess back in the bowl - and putting it down on the pan. It had been well mixed - it wasn't sticking to her hand at all.

  
Between the two of them, they quickly formed precisely sixteen cookie balls. Weiss had been expecting to be a little bit short, or a little bit long, but this was Winter. Precise, controlled, perfect.

  
"Two each?"

  
Winter gave the cookies an appraising look. "That seems acceptable."

  
The other twelve, they put into a bag that Weiss had brought for that express purpose. Winter took the bag, and put it in the freezer, while Weiss evenly distributed the others over the pans. After making sure Winter was watching, she pressed down with a fork on each one, twice, making a cross-hatch pattern. "You just need to let the other ones thaw first, then do that. These," she grabbed a pan in each hand, "We're going to bake for nine minutes."

  
Slipping past her, Winter opened the oven. Weiss put the pans within, trying for a brief second to gauge the temperature. She reluctantly concluded that, past a certain point, a person couldn't reliable estimate temperature just from the air. There needed to be another affect. Was paper catching fire? What color was nearby iron? How far away did you have to stand?

  
Winter closed the oven, and Weiss found herself touching her side, thinking about how her wound hadn't felt hot at all. After the surprise of heat, and injury, she had just felt cold. Even though she'd seen the scorching on her clothes.

  
"Nine minutes." Winter queued up her scroll.

  
She had forgotten something, Weiss realized. She hadn't brought an oven mitt, and she didn't know if Winter had one.

  
Weiss let out a little sigh at herself. So much for perfection. And she had been doing so well. "Winter?"

  
"Yes?"

  
"Do you have an oven mitt?"

  
"...No. No, I do not."


End file.
